of replacing that humble shack by a house and
garden of suitable scope.

In this matter he has throughout been his own
architect.

The site commands the fairest view in all Europe.

This is to say much, I know. But in these Bavarian Alps

there is a peculiar softness of greenery, with
snow-white cascades

and forest-clad pinnacles, like the
Schönfeldspitze and Teufelshörner.

Hitler's home looks out upon his native Austria . .
. From this view-point

a chain of drowsy lakes is seen far below, with
ancient shrine-chapels

hidden in ferny folds of towering rocks. And
since the Reichsführer

settled here as "Squire of
Wachenfeld," the whole region

has been starred with motor speedways, even as
far as Oberammergau.

The effect of light and air in the house is
heightened

by the rolling and trilling of many Hartz
mountain canaries

in gilded cages which hang or stand in most of
the rooms.

The curtains are of printed linen, or fine
damask in the softer shades.

The Führer is his own decorator, designer, and
furnisher,

as well as architect. He is constantly
enlarging the place,

building on new guest-annexes, and arranging in
these

his favourite antiques – chiefly German
furniture of the eighteenth century,

for which agents in Munich are on the look out. It is a mistake

to suppose that week-end guests are all, or
even mainly, State officials.

Hitler delights in the society of brilliant
foreigners, especially

painters, singers, and musicians. As host he is
a droll raconteur . . .

The Führer, I may add, has a passion for cut
flowers in his home,

as well as for music. Every morning at nine he
goes out

for a walk with his gardeners about their day's
work.

These men, like the chauffeur and air-pilot,
are not so much

servants as local friends. On such a day, when
State affairs

are over, the Squire himself, attended by some
of his guests,

will stroll through the woods into hamlets
above and below.

There rustics sit at cottage doors carving
trinkets and toys

in wood, ivory, and bone. It is then the little
ones are invited to the house.

Coffee, cakes, fruits, and sweets are laid for
them on trestle tables

in the grassy orchards. Then Frauen Goebbels
and Göring,

in dainty Bavarian dress, perform dances and
folk-songs,

while the bolder spirits are given joy-rides in
Herr Hitler's

private airplane. ‘This place is mine,’ he says
simply.

‘I built it with money that I earned.’

Notes:

Ignatius Phayre, ‘Hitler's Mountain home, a visit to 'Haus
Wachenfeld' in the Bavarian Alps’, Homes & Gardens, November, 1938. The accompanying
photographs were supplied by Hitler's press agent. Ignatius Phayre was a
pseudonym. The unknown author had already written a similar article for Country
Life.

By 1936, the rented cottage had become the Berghof (‘mountain
farm’) where Hitler spent more time than in Berlin. Like an English 18th
C landowner who wanted a beautiful landscape garden, he expanded, forcing out
many families who had lived on the mountain for generations. Next door was the
Hotel Zum Türken whose owner spent three weeks in Dachau before agreeing to
sell.